


Lies (Like Fire in my Throat)

by KandiCryptid



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Deceit | Janus Sanders Angst, Discussed Roman Sanders, Experimenting with Headcanons, M/M, Post-Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, Remus Being Caring, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Tasting Lies, lots of pain, platonic or romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KandiCryptid/pseuds/KandiCryptid
Summary: Everyone's lies have a different flavor, but each can be overwhelming in their own terrible way.Usually, Janus can deal with them well. It's his purpose, after all.But now?Now he wishes he could get rid of that power for good.
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 15
Kudos: 207





	Lies (Like Fire in my Throat)

For Janus, lies came in flavors. Each person had a different flavor. That flavor, just like their name, was a kind of identity: unique and hard to replicate exactly. Small ones could be hard to pick up, but the worst ones were unmistakable.

Virgil’s were a saltiness that burned the roof of his mouth and lips.

Logan’s tasted sour, like they had been left in the heat for too long, festering with no one to notice they were there.

Roman’s were spicy and made him want to cough. They slashed their way into his lungs, clawing at his throat. They hurt physically more than anyone’s.

Patton’s were sickly sweet, like he had used too much sugar to hide the burnt truth.

Remus’ were slightly better than the others, possibly because he rarely lied. They were strong and metallic, something that should never be tasted, yet here they were in Janus’s mouth.

But the worst, even against Roman's, were his own. 

One lie at a time wasn’t terrible. It was a twinge of bitterness, always at the tip of his tongue, waiting for an opportunity to escape. Those were white lies. They came easily and without guilt, ready to defend whenever they were needed. He was used to them, and he even welcomed them, especially when he knew that they were only for protection.

Both those were the simple ones.

White lies and sarcasm were shallow, one-off things.

It was always the webs that got him; the messy, uncomfortable traps of mangled truths and desperate lies that made him want to gag. Each word coated his throat in something so vile that it made him want to retch, but he knew he couldn’t. That would ruin the lie, and then it would have all been for nothing.

Janus had always found it ironic that he could barely stomach the biggest lies. Even if his tasted the worst, the others’ still put up one hell of a fight, too, and it could annoy him to no end.

Like at the trial.

Roman had wanted — obviously — to go to the call back. And it wouldn’t have done Thomas any harm. Janus was sure of it. It would have been good for Thomas, good for Roman, good for all of them. There was no use of Roman lying to them all, then, since the lie would have ended badly. And it had.

The burn had started off almost nice. It was so rare that Janus actually had to taste Roman’s lies that it was surprising, but not bad. The burn brought

Roman down to Janus’s level a little, and he privately relished someone actually agreeing with him, even if he knew it was fake.The burn felt good.

The burn meant he was getting his way.

But then it changed.

The verdict was passed, and that little twinge turned into a raging fire. He couldn’t help but scream in frustration because it wasn’t fair. Roman had been agreeing with him, right? Everything was going right, everything was going to turn out fine.

But then that lie.

Roman saying that it would be better to go to the wedding was so wrong and so unnecessary. It wasn’t protecting anyone, except maybe Patton, though it had harmed him in the long run, too.

The pain was for absolutely nothing.

Janus’s pain, for one, but also Roman’s.

It was only hurting them.

Why couldn’t they understand?

Didn’t they see that he was trying to help them? He was self preservation, after all. He was supposed to help. It was his job, his function. It was his purpose.

But then they were all yanked out of the courtroom illusion. Janus let out a strangled scream, partially in anger and partially in agony as he waited for the fire to die down. As soon as he could speak again, he had tried once more to change their minds, once more to make that lie go away because it wasn’t protecting anyone. But Roman had decided, and so had Thomas, so there was no going back now.

He knew that it was going to end badly.

He felt it deep in his bones, deep in his scales. But he could do nothing as the fire roared in his throat, only giving him time to speak when he breathed through it the best he could. And so he waited for it to die down.

All lies eventually lost their taste. The biggest ones took longer, but only because the biggest ones always got brought back up.

So he waited for it to fade.

It never did.

* * *

Janus had barely made it to his bed when he collapsed onto his nest of blankets, pillows and plushies. They made a protective bed, a shelter from the cold of the subconscious that seemed to find a way into every nook and cranny of his and Remus’s prison.

Prison.

The others would never call it that, but that’s what it was. Maybe not for Remus, since he also had reign of the imagination, but it was surely Janus’s. And even if he wasn’t physically forced to stay there, he still had his obligations to Remus. Neither of them were welcome on the other side of the mindscape.

Still feeling the burning agony, Janus wondered if he really wanted to be with them, anyway. It was _their_ lies that were tearing him apart, after all. It was _their_ lies that made him writhe, tangling himself up in fabric.

This was their fault.

He had wanted to help, and this was what he got in return?

His mind turned back to not even an hour ago. He had given them his name, something he had never actually expected to do, and they rejected it.

They rejected Janus. A little part of him told him to be logical, that it wasn’t all of them. It was only Roman that had laughed.

Roman, who had, more or less, been on his side just a few videos ago.

Roman, who had always hated him.

Roman, whom Janus had manipulated.

But hadn’t he done it for a good cause?

He had just wanted to help, and that had seemed like the best way to achieve his goal of protecting Thomas. He hadn’t expected for Roman to take it so hard. He truly hadn’t. Janus was simply doing what his instincts told him to do. 

So was it really their fault? He had no idea anymore. He just wanted the burning to leave him in peace. He could guess that if Roman would just admit that he regretted not going to the call back, then it would finally fade. But Janus doubted that would quickly— this was Roman he was talking about.

Roman, who was angry.

Roman, who had fallen apart.

Roman, who hated him more than ever.

Janus would not be getting mercy any time soon— no, he had to atone first. He had to pay.

He could almost hear Roman’s voice.

* * *

His throat was still burning when a loud pounding came from his door. It was erratic and harsh and unbelievably loud, even if it was muffled by the surrounding fluff. Janus made a low sound that only managed to bring tears to his eyes. 

It hurt.

He knew it was Remus from the knock, and he knew that he wouldn’t care if he got a response or not. He would barge in anyway, regardless of the answer.

He was right.

In a matter of seconds Remus was at the foot of the bed, bouncing violently on his heels. Janus didn’t bother to look up.

“What’s up, Snakey-Doodle-Dandy? Your little meeting with the Prudes not go too hot?” he asked, voice rough like he had been crying. If he could see him, he guessed that his eyes would be even redder than usual. It took much of Janus’s willpower not to open his mouth and comfort him. He knew that leaving him even for a little while was risky, but he had still made the choice to go.

Looks like Roman wasn’t the only one making harmful choices.

Looks like he had messed up Remus, too.

He had managed to mess up both Creativities.

He had only been trying to help.

Suddenly, he felt a sob tear through his body, forcing him farther into the nest. He barely repressed a scream at the fire that bounced up worse than ever, which made him cry even harder, which made the pain even worse.

And fore a second he forgot Remus was even there. He let himself fall deeper into his bed, finally giving up what dignity he had left.  
Then he felt something.

He jumped, not expecting it, but he soon realized it was a hand. Sometimes even Janus forgot how gentle Remus could be when he really wanted to.

It was rare, but not unheard of.

He let Remus rub slow, soft circles between his shoulders and down his back, and he noticed with relief how it never dipped anywhere near his waist. It stayed up, trying to soothe his crying. He heard quiet whispers that he couldn’t process but loved nonetheless. He loved how the bed creaked beside him and how a warm body pressed against his. 

He loved how every once in a while a finger would swipe some hair from his face as it plastered to his forehead. He loved how he felt his normal clothes melt away, quickly replaced with a T-shirt and sleeping pants. 

Eventually he calmed down, but he couldn’t say how long it took. He doubted Remus would know, either. But he finally found himself lying in the mass of fluff, with Remus curled around him, and he would be lying if he said he wanted to get up.

There was a long time of Janus leaning against him silently. The fire had faded slightly when the sobs quieted, but he knew that one sound would set them off again. So for now he was content with letting Remus card through his hair, and he didn’t have the energy to ask where his hat was.

It was Remus who spoke first.

“So, uh, I’m guessing your throat hurts or something?”

Janus nodded without opening his eyes. Remus made a low sound. “So, I’m guessing it was a Roman lie? You said those were kinda’ spicy or something,” he said.

Forcing a deep breath, Janus nodded again.

Remus was quiet while he puffed out his cheeks, and Janus could almost laugh.

Almost.

He didn’t dare to, though,

“Would some honey help? I mean, I can’t really make any. You know anything I conjure turns out pretty shitty, and you can’t really make anything solid, but I could go up and steal some,” Remus suggested. “It’ll be like a secret spy movie! Except the honey’s the spy and I’m the kidnapper, which is way more fun anyway.”

Remus did eventually go get honey, returning with both the food and a myriad of new ideas and stories, some much more gruesome than others.  
But Janus listened to them all as Remus fed him spoon after spoon, and dreamt of them when he finally fell asleep on his chest.


End file.
